


Cocktober 25: Masked Stranger AKA Cinder-Billy

by Glitter_Bug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is a little softer, Child Abuse, Kinda, M/M, Masked ball, S1 Steve meets S2 Billy, Smut, Steve is a little cockier, Swearing, cinderella!AU, king steve, later on, the usual Neil Hargrove is a dick stuff, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug
Summary: 'Steve had smiled beatifically as the chatter below him grew, “And this is a classy affair, yeah. No keg stands, no fighting, no sneaking into my parent’s bedroom, OK Carol?” There was a chorus of whoops and whistles, and a pretty brunette at the front stuck up her middle finger at Steve, who just laughed, “I mean it, we’re talking champagne and dancing, not puking in the rose bushes.”'King Steve throws a party for his loyal Hawkins subjects.But poor Billy gets grounded by his evil ogre of a dad.Luckily Max is there to play Fairy GodStepSister.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29
Collections: Cocktober Prompt Meme





	Cocktober 25: Masked Stranger AKA Cinder-Billy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a very silly idea that got away from me!  
> It was going to be a quick, Cocktober one-shot but then it spiralled into this and the Harringrove and cock doesn't even APPEAR yet!
> 
> Posted with minimal proof-reading- lemme know if you spot anything glaring!

Once upon a time there was a boy called Billy, and he lived a fairytale life.

If by fairytale you mean wicked stepmother and an ugly sister and being imprisoned in a castle for one hundred years by an evil ogre.

But no, that’s not right.

Not exactly.

Susan wasn’t wicked, not really. She stood by and watched while wickedness occurred under her nose. She was cowardly and pathetic, sure but she wasn’t _bad_ per se. 

And Max wasn’t ugly. Not that Billy would ever admit that. No, to her face he’d call her every insult under the sun; would spend half his time annoying her and the other half ignoring her and he’d complain about her every chance he got, but she honestly wasn’t that bad. Hell, Billy would probably have _liked_ her under different circumstances. She had spirit, an attitude, an edge that he actually sorta admired, and she could be funny too, when she wasn’t being an irritating little brat. Yeah, ok, maybe she wasn’t that bad either. 

And sure, maybe he was grounded, rather than imprisoned, and it probably wasn’t going to be for one hundred years. Hopefully.

But the evil ogre thing, yeah that was all true. 

And Billy could’ve handled being grounded at any other time, any other night. 

But not _this_ night. This night was the worst possible night for him to be grounded.

Because tonight was the night of Steve Harrington’s Masked Ball

Billy had been standing outside the cafeteria when Steve had announced it to the school. Billy had watched as Steve stepped up on one of the tables and coughed a couple of times, and the whole damn room had fallen silent.

Billy had been surprised by the guy’s authority, and so he stuck around, hoping he was finally gonna get to see why the other kids called him King Steve. 

Because Billy had been keeping an eye on Steve for a while, purely out of curiosity, and had wondered if there was more to him than just some pretty-boys looks, more than a crest of hair and those big brown eyes that had drawn Billy in from day one. 

And so far he’d been disappointed. Not that Steve wasn’t a perfectly pretty package to admire, but Billy had been hoping for a little more. Something he could really sink his teeth into, something worth his attention. Someone worthy.

And now that he was finally getting a flash of the casual confidence, the swagger, the unmistakable air of a boy who rules the school and knows it, Billy was intrigued. Wanted to see exactly what Steve had that elevated him to the top of the Hawkins High social ladder. 

The room stayed quiet as Steve explained that his mom and dad were out of town for the next few days, leaving him all alone in a very big and very empty house. So of course, it only made sense for the King to throw a party, a spectacular event to dazzle and delight, to let all of his loyal subjects know just how much he appreciated them. 

And then he started handing out invitations, honest to God invitations, like it was some fourth-grade birthday party at a bowling alley. Prissy pastel envelopes to match Steve’s prissy pastel polo.

Billy waited, somewhat nervously, for the mocking, for the laughter. 

It never came.

People were actually pissing their pants with excitement at getting one of the dumb things.

Steve had smiled beatifically as the chatter below him grew, “And this is a classy affair, yeah. No keg stands, no fighting, no sneaking into my parent’s bedroom, OK Carol?” There was a chorus of whoops and whistles, and a pretty brunette at the front stuck up her middle finger at Steve, who just laughed, “I mean it, we’re talking champagne and dancing, not puking in the rose bushes.”

And again, Billy waited with bated breath for people to scoff, to roll their eyes at this stuck-up rich boy and his lame, fancy-ass party but, if anything, the hubbub got louder, more enthusiastic. People were clamouring for the invitations, surging forward in their haste to grab one, and Steve held up his hands as the table he was standing on rocked precariously,

“Whoa! Easy, everyone’s invited.” And with that, he threw handfuls of the invitations up in the air, letting them flutter down on to the crowd in front of him. Billy watched as Steve jerked his head at the freckled kid who always followed him around, the two of them striding away from the cafeteria without a glance at the scrabbling masses behind him. They passed by Billy without a word, one of the invitations dropping from Steve’s fingers right at Billy’s feet.

Billy waited until Steve was out of sight before picking it up. 

It was elegant, formal. Lots of swirly calligraphy in metallic ink. Billy wondered if Steve had written them all himself, or if he had a whole staff at his beck and call to do it for him. A host of willing hangers-on working their fingers to the bone to satisfy the King’s whims.

Despite the formality of it, there wasn’t much content to the invitation. No ‘Steve requests the pleasure’ or ‘Join me’, just a Loch Nora address, a time and the dress code. Formal. Mask required.

Billy slipped it carefully in his pocket, made sure not to crease the thick paper.

He figured he could get as buzzed on champagne as he could on beer. Alcohol was alcohol and free was free. 

And if Billy’s heart sped up at the thought of being in Steve's house, getting a glimpse at some more personal part of him, well no one had to know. 

And then Max had to fuck everything up.

Had to choose the day of Steve’s party to ride home on the back of her dorky friend’s bike instead of waiting at the arcade for Billy like she was supposed to. And ok, maybe Billy had been a bit late, maybe he’d gotten a bit distracted when he spotted Harrington running some laps around the track and he’d realised he had a perfect view spot from his car, but still, Max should’ve known better. 

Or at least, should’ve held on a little tighter down the hill instead of getting thrown off and ending up with road rash all down her side. 

Or at the very least, had the damn sense to hide it from her mom instead of turning up on the doorstep with a ripped jacket and tears in her eyes.

Because while Susan had been worried and coddling, Neil had been angry. Furious. His rage growing and growing the longer that Billy was away. And when Billy finally arrived home, after a goddamn hour of searching the town for Max, Neil let him know just how _concerned_ he’d been.

Billy had known he was in trouble as soon as he’d walked through the door. Was pretty sure of it from his dad’s cold voice, the icy way he’d asked Billy to ‘explain himself’, and was damn certain when Neil grabbed him by the throat and shoved him against the bookcase in full view of Susan and Max, not even asking them to leave while he ‘had a word’ with Billy.

Billy was glad that Susan pulled Max out of the room before Neil really let loose. Before she saw Billy learning his lesson. 

And it’s unfair, Billy thinks, that Max still gets to go out trick-or-treating, scurrying out with her friends with nothing more than a reminder to be careful, while he gets locked in his room to nurse sore ribs, a puffy bruise around his eye and a blossoming collar of bruises on his neck. 

Billy knows he should've been more cautious, that mentioning the party in earshot of Neil only gave him ammunition, gave him something he could hold over Billy’s head, but Billy hadn't thought it through when Max asked if he had plans. 

It’s unfair that Neil dragged him here, dragged him out to the middle of nowhere, and then took away the one thing in this damn hick town that held any kind of appeal.

But Billy was used to unfair. 

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Figuring that he’s got a long night ahead of him, Billy gets himself comfy with a magazine, one of the ones hidden right in the bottom of his closet, and lets his hand reach down into his jeans. He’s just finding his favourite page - the one with the brunette that, if he squints, looks like a certain _other_ brunette- when there’s a tap at his window.

A small noise, at first, hesitant, and then it comes again and again, faster and faster. And then a hiss of “Billy!” from a rather familiar and very annoying voice.

Billy rolls his eyes and pulls his hand away, tucking the magazine firmly under his mattress before he pushes himself off the bed and goes over to the window. As expected, Max is there, standing on her tiptoes, fingers tapping against the glass. What Billy hadn’t expected, however, is the two kids standing around her, both with various bags and boxes cradled in their arms. 

“Billy! We’re here to rescue you!” Max’s grin is wide, “Open up, let us in.”

Billy opens the window a crack and shakes his head, “Not a fucking chance, shitbird, you wanna get me in even more trouble?" his voice is raspy, throat sore from where he’d been grabbed.

Max's face falls, guilt flooding her features. 

"That's why we're here," she says, "Billy, I'm sorry, I didn't realise that your Dad… that he would do that to you...and it was all my fault."

"Yeah, it was," Billy growls, and he opens the window wider, enough to lean out and loom over her, "so maybe you should scurry off before you make it even worse."

"We have a plan, a foolproof plan." A different voice, just as annoying, and Billy recognises the kid that he’d tried to warn Max away from. The one that Neil will definitely not want to see hanging about outside their house, “We’ve got it all mapped out. Stage one, we get-”

“Fuck’s sake,” Billy mutteres, opening the window fully, “Fine, fine, get in before anyone sees. And stay quiet.”

The kids scramble in and Billy glares at them each in turn, reserving the coldest glare for Max.

“What the fuck is going on?” he whispers and Max smiles again.

“We have a plan to bust you out,” she’s practically buzzing with excitement, “So you can go to the party.”

“Not gonna work,” Billy shakes his head, “No chance, Neil will find out and he’ll kill me. It’s not worth it Max.”

“But he won’t know!” Max’s friend- Lucas, Billy remembers- pipes up, “We’ll get him out the house.”

“And how exactly will you do that?” Billy’s actually starting to get a little curious. He knows how sneaky Max can be, and there’s a part of him that’s quite looking forward to hearing her idea.

Max’s grins, eager to share the plan.

“We’re gonna head to Dustin’s place and call from there. Say I got sick while we were out, really sick, that they think I’ve eaten some poison candy. We’ll make out that it’s really bad and that I need Susan and Neil to take me to hospital,”

Billy raises an eyebrow, “But you’re not sick…”

“We’ll make it look like she is, with this. Will made it!" Lucas holds up a large plastic bottle of what looks like vomit and Billy screws up his face in disgust.

“Do I want to know what that is?”

“It’s mostly orange juice and milk,” the other boy pipes up, “But it looks real!”

Billy pulls another face as Lucas continues, “We’re gonna cover her in this, and she’s gonna keep moaning and groaning and clutching her sides-”

Max jumps in, “Then I’ll get them to take me to hospital, and do what I can to stay there all night. Will’s been helping me remember lots of different symptoms I can fake, and where I should say the pain is. If they start wanting to send me home, I’ll just act like it’s really hurting here,” Max points to the right side of her body, just above her hip.

“That’s where it hurt when my cousin had appendicitis,” Lucas adds.

“And they’ll have to keep me in and do tests.” Max concludes, looking at Billy proudly.

Billy looks at the kids, all with eager eyes and looking so damn sure of their plan. He had to admit, it was kinda sweet, the lengths they were willing to go to. Dumb, but sweet.

“Max…” he tries again, “It’s not-”

“Don’t say it won’t work. It will. Just let us try Billy, please.” 

And Billy knows she’s going to let this go. Knows she’s stubborn enough to go through with it all whether he plays along or not. So he may as well see what he can get out of it.

“Y’know what? Fine. Let’s do it.”

The kids exchange giant grins, eyes lighting up and Billy’s pretty sure he’s gonna regret this.

“So you want me to help you get all…” he gestured to the bottle still in Lucas’ hands, “gooped up?” 

Max shakes her head, “Nope, we’ve got it. And that’s the second stage anyway. First, I have presents.”

She grabs one of the bags out of Will’s hands and pulls out a suit. 

A fucking tuxedo.

And Billy’s definitely regretting it now.

“Max, what the hell? You don’t need to fucking _dress_ me, y’know.”

Max’s expression is withering, “It’s a ball, Billy, you can’t just go in jeans,”

“I know,” Billy hits back with just as much attitude, “I have nice clothes.”

“Not this nice,” Lucas counters, “It’s my dad’s. It’s _designer_.”

Billy unfolds the tux in front of him and has to admit that Lucas is right. The suit is old, clearly from when Lucas’ dad was younger, but it’s a classic style- obviously expensive in an understated way and a lot nicer than anything Billy has hanging up in his closet. Billy runs his fingers over the burgundy bow tie peeking out of the jacket pocket. 

“This is…”

“You’re welcome,” Lucas calls, already turning his back. Max and Will follow, and it takes Billy a minute to understand,

“You want me to change now?”

Max turns back around with a scowl, “Yes! You’re wasting time. Come _on_.” 

So Billy attempts the quickest change he’s ever done in his life, only slowed down by the fiddly bow tie and the need to grab some underwear because there’s no way he’s going commando in borrowed pants. 

“Done!” he announces, spreading his arms out and watching the kids’ faces light up.

Well, watching Lucas and Will’s faces light up.

Max’s face, however, is not looking at the suit. Billy can see her eyes zoning in on his neck, on his chin, on those splotches of blue and black and yellow left by Neil’s fingers. The ones a lot more visible in the light of his room. He watches her eyes flooding with guilt and tries to head off what he know is coming,

“Max, I’m fine,”

“It’s my fault, you even said so. ‘Cause I skated home, I got you in trouble, I-”

“Max,” Billy interrupts, holding up a hand, “Yeah, ok? Yeah you did, but even if you hadn’t, Neil woulda found another reason. Woulda made one up. A spoon left out on the side or, I dunno, I didn’t look grateful enough for dinner.”

And Max’s lip wobbles, but she doesn’t argue, arms wrapping around herself until Will nudges her, holding out a small zipped bag which she takes from him, her eyes widening,

“I think we can fix it,” she says, a small, sly grin starting to spread across her face as she reaches into the bag and pulls out a tube of Cover Girl concealer. It’s a few shades too light, made for a much paler complexion, but before he can say anything, she’s also digging out a bronzer compact.

“This was meant to be for later,” she explains, “to make me look all pale and gaunt, but maybe if we mix them?”

“Will’s got a good eye for colour,” Lucas nods, as Max hands the make-up over to the other boy, “trust us.”

And well, Billy thinks, he’s come this far. If Neil finds out that he snuck out, he’s gonna be dead anyway- may as well leave behind a damn good-looking corpse.

“Fuck it,” Billy shrugs, “Go for it.” 

He sits on the bed as Will carefully applies the make-up, blending it together gently. He has to get pretty close, and Billy can see the redness spreading on the boy’s cheeks, can hear the quickness of his breath as his cold fingers glide over and over Billy’s skin, careful not to press or rub too harshly. 

“Can you, uh, lift your chin?” Will whispers, not daring to move Billy’s face himself, and Billy obliges, trying to hide the flinch as Will’s fingers ghost over a particularly sensitive bruise, Will notices- of course- mumbling an apology and blushing even darker before reaching into the bag for one more thing. 

A tube of lipgloss. Red. Cherry.

“You don’t, um, don’t have to. But it’ll look good.”

And Billy, for the second time that night, decides to just go for it. Fuck it. 

He slicks it on. Licks off the excess. Smirks at himself in the mirror.

Because the kid’s right. 

It looks good. 

“Now for the next part,” Max grins, reaching into yet another bag and drawing out hairspray, gel, mousse and a whole selection of clips and pins.

“Jesus Max, no. I’m not your fucking _Girls World._ My hair is fine.”

Lucas raises an eyebrow, and both Will and Max exchange looks.

“You don’t get to judge, bowl-cut,” Billy points a finger at Will and then immediately feels bad as the kid bites his lip and looks devastated, “Ugh, fine, just be quick.”

And they are. It’s Lucas who takes over this time, with some guidance from Max. His fingers work deftly, tugging on Billy’s curls roughly as he runs the mousse through them, untangling knots and pinning sections, eventually covering the whole thing with a fine mist of spray that has Billy coughing. 

Lucas hums in approval when he’s done, a satisfied look on his face, and Billy resists the urge to run a hand through his curls and mess it all back up again. Remembers that he’s playing nice now.

“Last bit,” Max announces, and Billy glares at her, “It better be,” although he can’t deny he’s intrigued to see what she comes up with. 

She reaches over into the last bag, drawing out something black and gold which she passes to Billy.

It’s a mask. 

A cat’s face.

Billy turns it over in his hands, taking in the detail, the intricacy of the thing. It’s masquerade style, designed just to cover the top part of the face, and made out of a thin, black metal painted with golden whiskers and gold curls on the two pointy ears.   
“You said it was a mask thing, right?” Max’s voice is quiet, “I didn’t know if you had one so…”

“My mom found it,” Will chimes in with a shy smile, “she said it would be just right for a fancy ball.” 

And the gesture is so damn heartfelt, Billy’s not sure how to feel. It’s too much. The whole thing has been too much. He wants to back away from it, to reject the mask just because it already holds so much promise, so much hope. Because it comes from love. 

But then he looks at Will and Lucas, looks at Max. Sees the way they’re smiling so genuinely, the way they actually _want_ him to do this. To have a good night. Because Max thought it was her fault that he couldn’t, so she’s doing all she can to put it right.

Because she’s good. 

Billy puts the mask over his eyes. Ties the golden ribbons around the back of his head in a messy bow.

“Ok?” 

The kids are beaming when he turns to them, and Max actually takes a step forward, a look of amazement on her face.

"Billy! You don't look like...you" 

Billy wonders if he should take that as an insult and he takes a quick glance at the mirror, freezing as a masked stranger stares back at him. He looks again, a hesitant hand reaching up to his hair, almost surprised when the reflection does the same.

Max was right. He doesn’t look like himself. He’s shining. His hair is falling in curling waves around his face, still soft with only a light misting of spray needed to keep them in place; the bruises on his face are hidden well, only really visible if you know where to look, and the cherry redness on his lips shines tantalisingly; the gold cat mask sits snugly on his face, looking more like a lion when combined with his freshly styled mane. 

But it’s the suit that makes the most difference. It had been a long time since Billy had worn something so formal, but he has to admit that it looked good. It’s a bit on the tight side, but that works well for him, and the dark red bow tie pairs well with his golden accessories. He feels royal, regal, kingly. 

Ready.

He moves over the dresser, hands reaching out to grab the Camaro keys, before it all comes crashing back to him. 

“Shit. I can’t...I can’t fucking go anywhere.”

He freezes at the door, thinks about the walk to Loch Nora. It could be doable, if he didn’t have to worry about getting back the same night. 

But he does.

“I can’t go.”

He turns back to the room, trying to hide the despair he knows is flooding his face, trying to press it down and school his features into something less pathetic.

“Neil’s got my keys. Max. Fuck!” 

Billy growls the last part under his breath, fingers already coming up to tear at the mask, to rip it away and fling it back at the kids. He’s angry at them for getting his hopes up, furious at himself for daring to believe it for a moment, “Just fucking...get out. All of you. Just get the _fuck_ out of my room.” He’s picking at the bowtie now, scrabbling at the knot, when Lucas coughs pointedly, and Billy whirls around, a yell bubbling in his aching throat, “What?”

Lucas just rolls his eyes and tilts his head towards Max who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

“We realised that,” Max rolls her eyes in a perfect imitation of Lucas before moving over to the window. “Your chariot awaits.” 

Billy looks to where she’s pointing.

There, out on the yard, is a bicycle. Pumpkin orange and with a wicker basket on the handlebars.

“It’s my mom’s!” Will’s grinning now, “She doesn’t mind you borrowing it. Says it might be a little small, but it’s speedy.”

And Billy can’t help but grin back.

Because it’s dumb. It’s hilarious. He’s going to look like an absolute idiot, but it could actually work. 

And he’s come this far...

For the third time, Billy thinks ‘fuck it’ and hauls himself out of the window. 

  
  


Billy dumps the bike a few houses away, not wanting anyone to see him arrive, before slipping around the edge of the forest to the back of the Harrington house.

He watches from the treeline for a while, taking stock of the situation, certainly _not_ just watching for Steve.

It’s nothing like he'd been picturing. Certainly not the glam, Gatsby inspired soiree Billy’s been building up in his mind for the last few days. Most people he can see are dressed like it’s a regular house party and the only masks that Billy can see are plastic Halloween ones, a collection of monsters, cartoon characters and animals.

He hasn’t spotted a keg on the lawn, but Billy can definitely see the glint of crushed beer cans littering the grass.

It’s just a regular, dumb house party. Hosted by a regular, dumb popular kid. 

And Billy has risked his damn skin to come here. Max and her friends have thrown away their whole Halloween night for this.

Billy feels a stab of disappointment in his chest. 

"Glad to see someone stuck to the dress code."

Billy whirls around, cigarette in hand, to see Steve Harrington standing behind him on the lawn. His face is half hidden behind a silver deer mask, two ornate antlers sticking up on either side, but Billy would know that hair anywhere, just as he'd know that cocky smile, those two little moles on his neck, that firm body under an expensive looking tailored shirt, that peachy ass currently clad in black dress pants. 

Billy’s disappointment fades instantly, as Steve puts a cigarette to his mouth, holding his hand out to Billy in a wordless request for a light. Billy obliges, leaning close to light it for him, and Steve takes a deep drag, not moving away.

“Not sure I recognise you, you one of Carol’s friends?”

Billy scoffs, and Steve smiles knowingly, breathing a plume of smoke into the night air,

“Yeah, I figured. You’re a bit too classy for her,”

Billy laughs, “You really don’t know me?” And it stings, a little, because Billy was pretty sure he’d made _some_ impression on Steve. Steve just shrugs,

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I’d remember someone like you.”

And there’s something in the way he says that, something in the way his eyes rake over Billy’s body, flicking down the tight suit and _lingering_ , that sends butterflies fluttering in Billy’s stomach, something that makes him feel brave and stupid at the same time.

“You wanna get to know me?” Billy asks, voice dropping low and sultry. He’s all in now. _Fuck it, why not?_ The mantra for the evening. If Harrington shies away, if he’s repulsed or gets violent or just freaked then Billy can run away and pretend he was never here.

But Steve doesn’t shy away. He’s not repulsed. He’s not violent. 

He flicks the cigarette away, crushing it with the tip of a shining shoe.

His eyes gleam behind the mask.

He moves even closer, one hand reaching out to touch at Billy’s hip, the other tracing at the edge of Billy’s cat mask. 

“Oh little kitten, I’m gonna make you purr.”

Billy can feel his mouth drying, can hear his heart thrumming in his ears. Because this? This isn’t how it goes. Not outside of his dreams anyway.

He swallows, waits a few seconds for his mind to stop whirring. For the twisting in his stomach to settle.

And then he smirks, fingers reaching up to flick at one of the antlers sticking up in between the waves of Steve’s hair. 

“Really, Bambi?” he whispers, “Is that how it goes?” Billy licks his lips, “Because I thought the lion was the king of the jungle.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, and he’s so close that Billy can feel it ghosting over his face, Steve’s breath tingling at his lips.

“We’re not in the jungle though, Goldie,” Steve gestures towards the trees surrounding the house, the ones currently casting them in a deep shadow, the ones concealing them from view, “We’re in the forest. So I suggest you bow down; show some allegiance to your King.”

And Billy does. Without even a flicker of hesitation. He sinks to his knees at Steve’s feet, mouth already opening, ready for what Steve deigns to bestow on him. 


End file.
